


walk the dinosaur

by skeleton_twins



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: (Slightly), (light), Bad Dirty Talk, Bottom Newton Geiszler, Established Relationship, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, M/M, Married Couple, Married Sex, Oral Sex, Riding, Roleplay, Spanking, Top Hermann Gottlieb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-27 20:47:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20414056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skeleton_twins/pseuds/skeleton_twins
Summary: Every year for Halloween Newton wears slutty costumes, this year he picks out Hermann's costume.





	walk the dinosaur

**Author's Note:**

  * For [buckgaybarnes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckgaybarnes/gifts).

> I know it's August, but it's also my lovely, charming friend's birthday who happens to be my spooky pal, so yes. I wrote a Halloween fic in August. 
> 
> Maria, you're astounding and extraordinary and I love talking to you about all things spooky. I completely adore you and am beyond lucky to be friends with you. I really hope you enjoy this fic!

“Halloween is soon,” Newt tells him for the third time that day. They had been working quietly for most of the morning. _Newton _had been silent, focused on the kaiju corpse under his hands. He wasn’t blaring any loud music (at least what Newton considered to be music–Hermann wasn’t convinced), keeping kaiju entails over on his side of the lab, not arguing with Hermann just to bicker or trying to derail their work for a quickie (Newton’s words, not his) on the lab couch, overall behaving himself.

It makes Hermann suspicious. 

Newton must _ want _something. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be acting so good. 

He knows that Newt is hinting at something each time he mentions the fact his beloved holiday is approaching. Why Newton doesn’t just ask for what he wants, Hermann’s unsure. 

Hermann sighs. Newton wants to talk and it’s unlikely he’ll be able to continue with his work. He tucks the piece of chalk he's holding back into the pocket of his blazer, “So you’ve mentioned. Repeatedly. Any particular reason why?” 

“Uh, not really,” Newt says, but his actions seem to conflict with his portrayed nonchalance, dropping the scalpel in his hand with a loud clang against the metal tray and spinning around to face him.

“I mean, I might have some plans for us this year. Nothing too big, of course.”

“Of course.” Hermann repeats, amused. 

Newton enjoys making plans for them since they had gotten together. It’s endearing. For the most part, they simply didn’t have the time for such things, not often they get the chance to have date nights. In the evenings after an exhausting romp in bed, Newton would lie there, in their quarters, sweaty and sated, propping his chin on top of Hermann’s chest and murmur late night promises of their future together. 

(“We should get married,” Newton blurted out while eagerly riding Hermann. This hadn’t been the first time he mentioned it during intercourse. Newton tended to bring up marriage while they fuck. Even during the times when Hermann was pounding Newt into the mattress. Newton on his hands and knees, his lovely ass in the air, with his face buried against the soft pillows, his voice muffled, “Let’s–_ Ah! _ –Let’s get married. I wanna marry you! Oh,_ fuck! _ I wanna marry that big cock!”

It _ had _been the first time Newt mentioned it after their lovemaking though, sprawled over Hermann’s body, placing small kisses along Hermann’s delicate clavicle. “Elope with me. This weekend.”

Hermann had startled, “Are you sure?” 

“Dude, I’ve been wanting to marry you since that letter you sent. You know the one where you–”

Hermann quickly slapped his hand over Newton’s mouth to cut him off. Newton had merely smiled and kissed his palm when Hermann said yes).

Sometimes–oftentimes in fact–Newton’s romantic plans for them tend to go awry. Hermann remembers (vividly) the sore wrists and eternal embarrassment of calling for help after Newt had lost the keys to the handcuffs that cuffed him to Newton's bed or the time where Newton almost burned down his room, attempting to set up a candlelight dinner for them. Hermann couldn’t help but be somewhat wary with the eager, bright-eyed look Newton currently has, “I think we should dress up this year.”

“You dress up in a ridiculous or inappropriate costume every year.” 

“Dude, Godzilla isn’t inappropriate. It’s a _ classic _.”

“We are at _war. _ With _ Kaijus. _ How is that not inappropriate?”

“It’s adorable that you keep wanting to pluralize Kajju but honey, sweetheart, cutie-pie you’re wrong. Kaiju is already the plural form. You’re my husband, think about how that reflects on me–the foremost leading expert on Kaiju–when my husband is calling them _ Kaijus_. ”

Hermann’s face warms at the row of endearments falling off Newt’s tongue. He ignores this, “Do you have a point?”

“Uh, yes,” Newt blinks, realizing that they’ve wandered off-topic, something that they frequently do. “Yes. Okay. So...I have the perfect costume for you this year.”

“Newton–” 

“I know, I know. You’re not that into Halloween.” 

Which isn’t entirely true. Hermann likes the holiday well enough, maybe not to the extent Newton enjoys it, but it _was _a little charming. The mood seems to lift people’s spirits around the shatterdome especially with how Newt would pass out treats to everyone. Even the Marshall had smiled when Newt tracked down Mako’s favorite candy–it had been difficult, but Newton always made sure to get the young girl it each year.

Hermann doesn’t mind indulging Newton so he does dress up for the holiday, but there is a stipulation: he gets to decide the costume. Usually, he puts the bare minimum into them, often something subtle enough that almost no one but Newton recognizes because he was _still at work. _Hermann prides himself on his professionalism. Newton doesn’t worry about such things and while Hermann is baffled by Newton’s lack of respect for his job, he couldn’t deny the–er–certain appreciation he holds for Newton’s scantily-clad costumes.

“It’s the perfect costume for you,” Newton assures him, but Hermann recalls some of the more revealing choices Newton had gone with from previous years (the costumes Hermann _still _reminisces about when he’s alone in their room). He knows exactly the type of costume Newton wants him to wear. 

“Newton, love, remember the rules? I choose the costume.”

Newton sighs, “But you always _ love _my costumes choices.”

Hermann cannot deny that. “Yes, dear, but I know your choices very well and I cannot walk around the shatterdome wearing some frilly, inappropriate costume. It’s–It’s unprofessional.”

Hermann Gottlieb has one weakness: Newton Geiszler. If he was being technical, he would say it actually would be considered 1.5 weaknesses, but since that .05 part was attached to said Newton Geiszler, Hermann doesn’t include it.

Newt’s fully aware of this. He discovered Hermann’s weakness early on in their relationship and uses it to his advantage at any given chance.

“Please, baby,” Hermann blinks and startles, caught off guard by Newt’s sudden proximity–when did he get so _ close? _ Newton’s standing close enough that Hermann can feel Newt’s warm breath on his lips. He peers up at Hermann through fluttering eyelashes, working his lower lip with his teeth. Hermann’s too distracted by Newton’s pink mouth (he had wondered previously if Newt wore some kind of lipgloss to make them _ that _pink, but turns out it’s completely natural) to notice Newt grabbing his wrist, guiding it slowly down Newt’s soft side and over his hips.

He covers Hermann’s hand with his own once Newt reaches his destination. The .05 half of Hermann’s weakness. Newt’s lovely, plump, round ass. He tightens his grip, making them both squeeze Newton’s ass.

Newton’s not playing _fair_. 

“I’ll do anything,” Newt promises.

Hermann doesn’t realize until much later–after spinning Newton around and rutting his hard cock against Newton’s ass until he’s coming inside his trousers–that Newton never informed him on what costume Hermann had just agreed to wear. 

* * *

He finds out the morning of Halloween. There, on the corner of their bed, lies a pile of neatly folded clothes Newton must have left after he slipped out while Hermann was sleeping. There’s a yellow post-it note attached to the set of dark clothes. It’s bright against the black fabric. 

It’s Newton’s handwriting, something Hermann is fairly intimate with, scrawled messily in dark blue Sharpie marker (one of Hermann’s–Newton must have found it after rummaging through his desk). It reads: _Happy Halloween, sweetheart! Too excited to sleep so I left your costume on the bed, get dressed, and I’ll meet you in the lab, love you! _

There are doodles of Jack O’Lanterns lining the bottom of the post-it note and scribbles of misshapen hearts that Newton often drew on the notes he leaves for Hermann on his chalkboard, one side of the heart always bigger, almost lopsided. Hermann adores it. 

The clothes weren’t as risqué as Hermann fear they would be. Most of his body is covered–barely any skin revealed. They were snug though, much tighter than the clothes Hermann typically wore. The dark denim jeans clung to his legs. The matching black button-up shirt is a bit looser, but the first button is placed halfway down the shirt, displaying the expanse of Hermann’s pale chest. There were also a pair of black boots and rectangular-shaped glasses. He recognizes the last piece of the costume: Newton’s leather jacket. 

He tugs on Newton’s jacket, sliding his arms inside, blushing all the while. The leather jacket is cool to the touch, but the lining's still warm on the inside as if it has captured Newton’s body heat from all the years of wearing it, soaked in Newton’s warmth. Hermann smiles as he buries his nose into the leather. It’s sentimental, Hermann thinks, but he's rather fond of the old thing. Mainly because it belongs to Newton_. _There are memories threaded into the seams. The weight of it slung over Hermann’s shoulders after he had fallen asleep at his desk while working one day in the lab (“Didn’t want you to freeze,” Newton shrugged after Hermann woke up and inquired about it. “You looked cold.”) The sweet gesture has never left Hermann’s mind.

Hermann frowns when he catches his reflection in the mirror. The reflection is caught at an odd angle, almost distorts his image and he can barely recognize himself. His frown deepens. Pale pink lips stretched downwards. Hints of himself slip through, those that no costume, no matter what it was, would be able to change: his haircut, the cane he’s holding, but he looks different wearing these clothes. It _is _Halloween and after-all isn't that the whole point to the holiday, to be someone else for the day? 

He recognizes the costume, of course. Newton wants him to be Dr. Ian Malcolm from the movie _ Jurassic Park _ for the day and Hermann wouldn’t be surprised if this isn’t the last time he’ll wear this for Newton. It’s a beloved movie that they were both very fond of, that they had watched several times together (they never made it through the film without Newton sticking his hand down Hermann’s trousers, although, that tends to happen every time they watched movies together). Newton had pointed out the similarities between the two: tall, sexy mathematicians. There weren’t a whole lot of things he had in common with the fictional character, but that didn’t seem to matter to Newton. “He does dress better,” Newton had pointed out once. 

Hermann foregoes combing his hair, leaving the curls he typically brushes out during his morning routine. It looks messy like Newton’s hair, all tousled and disheveled on purpose, and reeks of unprofessionalism. This is for Newton, Hermann reminds himself. He knows Newt will be pleased when he sees him. Hermann can already picture Newt’s blinding smile and laughter lines almost hidden among his stubble. The way his freckled nose scrunches up when he grins. Looking a little less professional is worth seeing his husband happy.

* * *

The lab is, unsurprisingly, decorated from top to bottom when Hermann arrives. Odds bits and pieces Newton had picked up at thrift stores over the years. Newt’s kaiju figurines are perched on big, round pumpkins on his desk. Newt gets a couple for them to carve each year. Hermann wasn’t certain just how Newt managed to find them– pumpkins were difficult to come by since the war–but each year Newton shows up with at least two. Hermann never asks, best to leave it as a mystery. 

There are a series of clicks that tears Hermann’s attention away from the ghosts and skeletons garland circling the kaiju tanks–heels smacking against concrete floors–stirring up the fog that hugs the lab floor. Newton had been proud of that creation: the fog machine he made from garbage years ago. Hermann’s convinced that operating one in a lab had to be some kind of violation, a hazard, but unfortunately, there were no rules forbidding fog machines, Hermann had checked. The smoke is thin enough that Hermann could still see his shoes, didn’t have to kick the smoke around with the bottom of his cane to have a clear walkway, the fog barely even reach Hermann’s side of the lab.

A pair of black, strappy high-heels steps into his view, along with nicely-shaped, smooth legs. Hermann’s mouth suddenly goes dry. He swallows as his eyes draw up his husband’s body. The snakeskin dress he wears is_ short,_ barely passing the top of Newton’s thighs. It's brown and speckled with lighter shades in between and has matching gloves that run up Newton’s arms with little claws poking out near his knuckles. There's a long tail attached to the back of the dress that sways side-to-side as Newton moves forward. The material clings to Newt’s soft body, tightly snug against his curves. There are two thin strings tied in a messy knot around his neck that seems to hold the dress up, barely covering his inked chest. 

Newt is grinning, pink lips stretched wide, his teeth showing–that familiar smile he had predicted Newt would have at seeing Hermann dressed in his costume. His heart thumps pitifully in his chest. He’s so in love with this ridiculous man. 

His attention is forced away once he catches sight of the dinosaur head Newton wears like some kind of helmet. It bobbles a little as he rushes towards Hermann, “Oh, Dr. Malcolm,” Newt bats his eyelashes, placing his hand against Hermann’s exposed chest, “I sure hope my costume doesn’t frighten you.” 

The corners of Hermann’s mouth twitch. This is Newton’s plan for them:_ Jurassic Park _ roleplay. “What exactly are you dressed as?” 

“I’m a tyrannosaurus obviously...Well, a slutty one.”

“Slutty?” Hermann repeats, choking out the words.

“Yeah, I’ve been _ so _naughty, Dr. Malcolm.”

“How so?” 

Newt blinks, not expecting the question, “Just regular, naughty dinosaur things like–uh–eating the park’s guests.” 

“That’s terrible,” It’s difficult not to laugh. Hermann has to purse his lips tightly together to stifle the snort threatening to escape. “You ought to be locked up. Bound.”

The light atmosphere shifts as soon as the words leave Hermann’s tongue. He only meant to tease, really, but Newt’s expression changes, his pupils dilating, mouth falling open. Newt gasps softly, his tongue pokes out, swiping over his pink lips once before he shuts his mouth. The muscles in Newt’s throat work as he swallows loudly. “Yeah? Are you going to punish me, Dr. Malcolm?” 

* * *

Eventually, they wind up on the lab’s couch, but not before Newt falls to his knees in front of Hermann, hitting the floor so hard Hermann worries that it will leave bruises behind. Hermann scolds him, but Newt ignores it, merely unzips Hermann’s skin-tight jeans and pulls out Hermann’s cock. The zipper had been digging painfully into Hermann’s erection after his jeans grew uncomfortably tight the moment he laid his eyes on Newton. 

Newt works quick, teasing at his slit with his tongue, planting several kisses to his leaking cockhead while stroking the rest of his length with one hand. Newt always looks so content with Hermann’s cock in his mouth, sighing happily, his eyes fluttering shut, jaw slacked. His mouth is split wide, precome and saliva sticking to his lips, to his chin. Newt’s still as enthusiastic as he was the first time he sucked Hermann’s dick. A little too eager, always taking more than he could handle, begging Hermann to fuck his mouth, wants Hermann’s cock hitting the back of his throat. Hermann knows he won’t last long watching his cock disappear in and out of that pink mouth, he never does. It takes Hermann tapping the side of Newt’s hip with his cane before Newt releases him with a loud _ pop_. 

Newt doesn’t bother stripping or undressing Hermann. “The costume stays on,” Newt tells him before pushing him down onto the sofa. He had been too impatient for much prepping. Hermann got two lube-slicked fingers in–it had been a hasty search for the bottle of lube they hid in the couch previously–before Newt's pleading for Hermann to get on with it and fuck him (it didn’t take much anyways, Newt was still loose from the previous night’s fucking). 

Newt straddles him, the material of his short dress bunches around his waist, moaning and squirming in his lap. Newt’s got a lovely cock, not too long, but thick and wide. It’s flushed bright red, the cockhead glistening wet, fat drops of precome trickles out, slipping down his length. Precome smears against his bare skin, slapping against his stomach each time he bounces up and down on Hermann’s cock. 

Hermann bats at Newton’s dinosaur tail–it’s swishing with Newt’s frantic movements–as his hands slip behind Newt. He cups Newton’s ass with both hands, squeezing the soft flesh a couple of times before spreading apart Newt’s cheeks. 

_ “Fuck!” _

Hermann could easily picture it–Newton’s pink rim stretch wide around Hermann’s cock–he wishes he could see it, but he likes Newton facing his direction when he rides him. As much as he enjoys the view when Newt’s straddling him backward–Newton’s ass jiggling as he moves–the skin-to-skin contact with Newt’s back pressed against his chest, Hermann prefers the intimacy of this position, being able to watch the little reactions his husband makes, eyes squeezing shut when Hermann thrusts hard, deeper than the last time. The soft, funny, little noises that slip from Newton, tiny squeaks and broken moans. The best part though was getting to kiss him easily and without strain–it’s barely any effort to cup the back of Newton’s neck and drag him down until their mouths brush together (although it’s much harder to kiss him when Newton is wearing a giant dinosaur head. Hermann had unbuckled and tossed it aside as soon as they started making out). 

Hermann dips his finger between the crease of Newt’s ass, circling Newt’s hole and his finger bumps against his dick. Both of their breath hitches as his fingertip explores, tracing his rim, feeling how wide Newt is stretched around him. He pushes a little, tugs at Newt’s rim as if he plans on pushing a finger inside him along with his cock.

Newt shouts when his fingertip presses into his hole, immediately clenching down tighter on Hermann’s cock at the new intrusion, “_Hermann!_ Uh–I mean Ian...” 

“Doctor.” The correction slips out, more out of habit than anything else.

“What?” Newt asks breathlessly, “Seriously, dude?” 

Hermann sniffs, “It’s _ Dr._ Malcolm.” 

“Who gives a sh–_oh_ _fuck!”_ Newt’s whole body jerks when Hermann’s hand comes down, slapping Newton’s ass hard. 

Hermann smiles, massaging the reddening skin, “What was that, dear?” 

“Please, please Herma–_Dr. Malcolm_–do that again,” Newt moans, gripping the top of the couch with both hands until he’s white-knuckled and pushing his ass back into Hermann’s hands for more. 

“You like that?” Hermann asks, even though he knows the answer. Newton loves getting spanked just as much as Hermann enjoys spanking him. 

“Yes. Yes. Yes. I do. I love it, Hermann, _ please.”_

Hermann smacks his ass again, this time quicker, “You are a–uh–a slut, aren’t you? Moaning another man’s name while my cock is buried deep in you.” 

Newton shakes his head, grinding himself back desperately onto Hermann’s cock. “No? You’re not a little tart then? A cockslut?”

Hermann watches as Newton’s fat cock twitches at being called names, at his hand raining down on his ass quickly in a series of slaps. Precome steadily drips from his cock, down the sides, and gathers right above the patch of dark pubic hair that peeks through Hermann’s unzipped jeans. 

“Be a good little slut for me, Newton, and fuck yourself on my cock.” 

“_Hermann…_” Newt whines out. Hermann doesn’t bother correcting him this time, he knows Newton is getting close with the way his face flushes and scrunches up. He starts to bounce faster, lifting himself upwards only to slam back down. His thighs shake each time Newt raises himself, muscles tensing. 

“Do I feel good, baby? Please, tell me I’m good.” Newton’s voice breaks as he pleads. 

Hermann groans, hands slipping down to Newt’s thighs, nudging his legs wider apart and pushing his cock even deeper, “Oh, darling, you do. You feel wonderful. You’re so good, my love.”

He knows when he hits it, his cockhead brushing against that bundle of nerves. Newton’s reactions are immediate–his eyebrows pull together, his mouth falls open, and his eyes rolling back into his head. “_Right_ _there_! Fuck! Fuck me _right _there!”

Newt wails when Hermann clutches at Newton’s soft sides, fingernails digging in enough that it leaves half-moon indentations on Newt’s skin, and starts pistoning his hips upwards. It’s a brutal pace, angling just right to hit Newt’s prostate with every thrust. His grip is too tight–Newt can barely move to meet his thrusts–but Hermann doesn’t care, he’s doing most of the work, lifting Newton up and down onto his cock.

Newt braces himself with one hand on Hermann’s shoulder, the other hand reaching between their bodies, thick fingers wrapping around his cock. Hermann knows that the extra touch wouldn’t be necessary, that Newton could come completely untouched–Hermann has seen it before. 

_ “Oh _fuck! Hermann–I’m–I’m gonna–” Newt’s fist is flying over his dick. It’s too fast and off-rhythm with Hermann’s thrusts. He strips his cock, pumping it once, twice, three times before he’s tensing, arching his back, and coming hard, spurting all over Hermann’s pale chest. It takes Hermann a couple more thrusts before he’s coming too. 

Newt slumps forward, collapsing against Hermann’s sticky, come-splattered chest. Newt doesn’t seem to mind getting his dress dirty, although the dress is barely still on him, the strings looped around his neck are loose, the knot must’ve came undone sometime during the fucking. Hermann’s the most likely culprit. Newt teases how handsy he gets, his hands roaming everywhere, squeezing at Newton’s body, tugging at his clothes. The dress hangs low on Newt’s chest, revealing kaiju-stained skin and lovely dusty pink nipples. Hermann leans forward and takes one into his mouth. 

Newt moans as Hermann sucks, his noises are quiet and breathy, much softer now than his earlier cries. His back arches as Hermann moves onto the next nipple, as Hermann’s soft cock slips out from his body, a pool of Hermann’s come dripping down the back of his thighs. Newt tucks his face against the crook of Hermann’s neck once Hermann releases him, panting heavy and loud and warm against his throat. 

Hermann’s eyes close as Newt starts to mouth at his collarbone, pressing gentle kisses against his skin, and he lets himself drift in the afterglow. His body is warm and flushed, perspiration from their strenuous activity coats his skin in a thin layer. It gathers on his brow, covers his entire body, making his skin glisten in the lab’s lighting. 

Neither one moves for a few minutes, still trying to catch their breath. He shivers as the cold air in the lab hits his sweat-slicked skin. Newt shifts in his arms, tugging at the blanket behind them and wiping at Hermann’s chest, cleaning them up quickly and a little messily, before resettling into Hermann’s lap. It’s then, as Newton throws his legs over Hermann’s lap, he realizes Newt is still wearing his high-heels. Hermann’s hands slip down Newton’s legs, cupping his ankles, and quickly unlatching the buckle. A resonating clatter echoes through the lab as Hermann drops the shoes onto the floor beside the couch. Newt buries himself against Hermann’s side and resting his head on Hermann’s shoulder. 

He feels Newton smile before he speaks, “Dr. Malcolm, could you teach me about Chaos theory?"

“Of course, dear,” Hermann’s lips brush against Newt’s forehead, kissing it tenderly, “Fetch me a glass a water.” He has done this demonstration several times before for Newton but never while wearing these clothes. Newt wasn’t going to miss this opportunity. 

Newton jumps up from the couch after returning the kiss, a quick peck to Hermann’s cheek. Hermann has to stifle a chuckle at his eagerness, at Newt barely righting himself after almost tripping over his bare feet to get to the other side of the lab where the small kitchenette is. Newton pauses halfway across the lab, looking over his shoulder with soft eyes and a wide grin, “Happy Halloween, Hermann.” 

“Happy Halloween, love.” 

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY BIRTHDAY MARIA!!! <3


End file.
